


What Makes Us Fools

by lordvoldemortsnipple



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 5 Times, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Get Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-07 10:25:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5453291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordvoldemortsnipple/pseuds/lordvoldemortsnipple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five different times (in between many others) Theo calls Blaise an idiot.<br/>And five different times (in between many others) Blaise calls Theo a jerk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Idiot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five different times (in between many others) Theo calls Blaise an idiot.

**I.**

Theo can hear Malfoy snicker in the desk in front of his, and Theo sighs as Zabini turns around to face him, a smirk tugging his lips as he hands Theo a paper. Theo puts it aside on his own desk without opening it until Zabini shrugs and turns around again to sit straight, and Theo still waits as Malfoy glances back from time to time to see if he had grabbed the paper.

Theo lets it sit on the corner of the table until they give up waiting, and then he waits a little more. Only then does he drag it on the surface of the table towards himself and, with a quick glance to make sure no one notices him, Theo opens the note, his eyes widening at the content. His heart is beating faster, and he can't help but to look at Zabini, who's back is still turned to him.

Theo is thirteen years old, and this is the first time he's asked to be someone's boyfriend through a note. Or through any means at all.

He goes back to staring at the paper, telling himself it's a joke, that it's not cute at all that the only options he can check are _'Obviously yes'_ and _'As if anyone would ever say no'_. Then he can't help but to look at it with a fond, small smile, that comes with his hopes rising, both a bit against his will.

By the end of the class it's hard to hold back an actual smile and, as everyone packs, he gets up, moving to be in front of Malfoy and Zabini's desk, handing back the note, a check marked on the first option. Both Malfoy and Zabini stare at him, and the latter slowly grabs the paper, opening it, and stares at it for a long while, and then looks confused at Theo.

Theo masks his features, and raises an eyebrow, instinct kicking in and making him play safe, hiding away his quick heartbeat, and he puts his hands in his pockets to stop them from betraying his nervousness. "So?" he asks, looking at him. "I suppose this means you'll kiss me now?"

Zabini gaps at him, and Theo's heart is broken for the first time in eight years when he finally replies. "..Do you have to ruin every joke?" he mutters, closing the hand holding the paper, creasing it, before he shoves it in his pocket. Malfoy is laughing by his side, throwing his bag over his shoulder, and Zabini frowns both at him and at Theo.

Theo did well in masking his features, or now he'd be making a fool of himself. He should have known better than to get his hopes up, to think that just because he had started liking Zabini over that year that the feeling would be returned.

"Idiot," Theo lets out, before leaving the classroom. He doesn't know Zabini's eyes follow his way out.

 

**II.**

Theo tries to keep his eyes to himself as he dresses quickly, staring at the wall and only looking at his own clothes, and he hopes he's not blushing, that his body isn't betraying him. He's almost done, sitting down on the bench to put on his shoes, when Zabini comes out of the showers and passes by him, and Theo can't help but to watch him go, his smooth, dark skin visible for his view, the water drops having the pleasure of travelling down his body, the towel wrapped around his waist that Theo can't help but to envy so much at the moment.

It's hard to make himself look away before someone notices, and he's even more tense as he reaches down to tie his laces, unable to help but to glance back at Zabini's form as he dries himself, making Theo's breath come out rather shakily. His eyes return to his shoes when he realizes what he's doing, but his focus is still on the fact that only a few feet away in the locker room, Zabini is very much naked and dripping wet.

Theo is sixteen years old, and in this moment he's pretty sure he's gay. Or as sure you can be when you want to lick up another bloke's chest.

This isn't good, and he knows it. His father keeps telling him the only good thing he can do for the family is to get him an heir, and if he ever finds out that right now Theo wants nothing more than press his open mouth on Zabini's navel, then he's a dead man. A dead teenager, in any case, but he'll be dead so the correct term doesn't really concern him at the moment. Why couldn't he like girls? Why was Zabini so bloody attractive?

"Idiot," Theo mumbles, as he spares another glance at Zabini.

 

**III.**

Theo returns to school with a newfound confidence. A summer hiding away from his father should do just the opposite, but it motivated him to succeed in any way possible to be able to leave him. This is year is going to be just studies. Daphne and Bullstrode can do well without him, and it's more than enough time he stops paying attention to Malfoy and Zabini. They're spoiled in a way he hasn't been in over ten years, and what does it matter what they say anyway?

Theo walks down the hallway alone, passing by classmates catching up on the holidays, friends reuniting, and Theo ignores it all. None of that matters, there's no one he's going to pause to talk, he's just going straight to the classroom and get ready to be on top of the class. He's about to open the door when he hears a smooth voice on his side, and his head turns to see Zabini and Malfoy talking to some girl Theo hasn't seen before, but his mouth opens in shock, his eyes lingering on his classmate as his hand stills on the door handle.

Zabini is nineteen years old, and each time the school year starts he manages to take Theo's breath away. Without even knowing.

It takes him a moment, as he looks Zabini up and down, to remember what he was doing. It takes the new girl's laugh and leaning closer to Zabini for Theo to snap out of it, and he frowns, opening the door quickly, and Zabini raises an eyebrow at him before Theo goes in. He stops once inside the classroom, alone again, and sighs, as his mind is no longer on his plan for the school year.

Theo rubs his forehead, going to an empty desk, telling himself it's useless to keep thinking of Zabini, especially since he's so obviously straight. And what was with that look he gave Theo? Why did he have to send chills down his spine, and remind him of the kindness he had seen before in his eyes, and the smile Theo wishes it was directed at him?

"Idiot," Theo mutters, before trying to distract himself by checking the summer work.

 

**IV.**

Theo wakes up with a groan, curling up in his bed, and retreats to further under the blankets, trying to hide away from any kind of light. He hisses at his complaint, and even that hurts his ears. He's confused, unsure between what's dreams or memories, and suddenly he feels a sharp pain at the end of his back as he shifts, making him whimper.

Theo is twenty two years old, and this is the first time he has an hangover. Or spent the whole night drinking.

Or… Theo isn't sure if it had been real, but he doubts the pain he has up his ass is from something else, so he frowns, trying to ignore his headache as he focus on the night's events. He can't remember much, but had drank... and danced... and... _grinded_... and suddenly he could recall Zabini looking hungrily at him, could recall being shoved on a wall and kissed rather roughly.

Theo freezes, not sure if he wanted to reach the conclusion of all of it. Because if what he thinks is right, then after finishing a long term relationship where he refused to shag, he had just given that up on a one night stand. On a one night stand with his high school crush.

Theo groans, moving to curl up even further before the pain stops him from doing it. He slept with the man he never thought he'd had the chance, and the one he knows he will never see again. Theo knows Zabini only does one night stands, everyone in town knows it, and Theo doesn't want to be just another name on his list. He used to wish for an actual relationship with him, and put the idea aside because he was straight.

And now, apparently he isn't _that_ straight, and since he already slept with Theo, now he won't have a chance to keep Zabini with him.

"Idiot, idiot, idiot," Theo groans, covering his eyes with an arm, and he wants to scream in frustration, for his foolishness and for what he lost, for what he could have gotten, but his head hurts. _"Idiot."_

 

**V.**

Theo shifts on the sofa, his shoulders bending forward as he leans closer to his laptop's screen, checking the wording of the document that has been busying for the last few days. He blinks, and twists his nose a bit, as he tries to focus better on what's in front of him, still getting distracted anyway.

Theo is twenty five, and he still not used to his new reading glasses. He can see the black frame on the lenses in the corner of his eyes, in a blurry way, and keeps feeling how it weights down his nose.

He fixes the glasses's position, trying to stop getting distracted by them, and trying not to feel like a nerd for using them. He frowns, finally realizing what he had written, and sighs as he selects the last two paragraphs, erasing them. He glares at the word count for a moment, blaming it for the stupidity he wrote and the further he was from the deadline. Now he has to think up a new line of thought to write down. "Idiot," he sighs, not really looking forward to rewrite it.

"What did I do now?" Theo looks up from his laptop's screen, to the other side of the couch, where Blaise is sitting and had them maneuvered so Theo's legs are on his lap, a warm hand over them. He looks a bit offended and amused at Theo, used to the insult.

Theo opens his mouth to reply but, like in most times he ends up just letting out that word, he doesn't have the heart, but too much pride instead, to let Blaise know he's referring to himself. Although, well, maybe he's not just referring to one of them. So instead he nudges Blaise with his foot, and says, "You keep distracting me."

"I didn't do anything," Blaise points out, probably not even noticing as he rubs Theo's leg with his thumb, and Theo can't really say he's wrong, but he doesn't want to admit he's right either. He chuckles, looking fondly at Blaise.

"Since when do you ever do anything at all?"

"Jerk," Blaise lets out in a warm tone, a smirk tugging at his lips in amusement, and he pulls Theo's legs closer to him. "You'd have me anyway." Theo nudges him again with his foot, but he's smiling too.

"My idiot."


	2. Jerk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five different times (in between many others) Blaise calls Theo a jerk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a lovely comment for Lola asking for Blaise's pov or how they got together, and I thought, why not both? I already had a few files lying around with what happened at the club and how they got together and inspiration struck, so I reviewed those and wrote an adaptation to fit the structure, and here we are with double the words of the previous chapter.

**I.**

Blaise is sitting in the stands at the school’s gym as he watches the try outs for the football team. He doesn’t care much for the sport, but Draco’s trying out for a position in the team, and he’d make a fit if Blaise wasn’t there to witness it. He has considered trying out as well, but it seems more work than it’s worth, running around kicking a ball, and there are probably better ways to spend his time.

“Blaise!”

He turns his head to the sound, and a bit below where he is, further to the left, is Daphne waving a hand at him. He gets up and goes downstairs to her, his step slowing as he sees Nott is with her.

Blaise is fourteen years old, and he may or may not be interested in Daphne in, you know, _that_ way. He’s not very sure, but he has never liked anyone like that before.

“What are you doing here?” he asks her once he reaches them.

“Millicent is trying out for the volleyball team,” she says, tilting her head to point at the area of the gym where those trials are being held, her blond hair bouncing gently as she moves. He glances away from it over to the try out just in time to see Millicent hit the ball hard, the sound echoing on the gym. He’s glad he’s not on the other side of that net.

“Draco’s trying for football,” he offers, pointing with a thumb over his shoulder.

“Aren’t you going to try for anything?” Nott asks him, his eyes intent on him. It makes Blaise uncomfortable, but he doesn’t show it.

“Why would I?”

“Sports seem to be your thing,” he says, and Blaise doesn’t know how Nott does it, to say such a normal thing in such an insulting tone.

“More than yours, obviously,” he lets out, “scrawny as you are.”

“Rather than be an idiot like you,” Nott says, facing him head on as usual.

“Boys…” Daphne says firmly, putting a hand on Nott’s arm as she looks at them both in warning.

Both stop, although their eyes stay strong on each other, each daring the other to look away first.

“Come on,” Daphne tugs on Nott’s arm, “let’s get closer to Milly’s game. Talk to you soon, Blaise?”

And Blaise only pulls his eyes away from Nott because it’d be rude not to look at Daphne as he talks to her, but he still feels like he lost. “Yeah.”

“Maybe I’ll see you at debate club?” Nott asks in an almost innocent tone, as they move away, a smirk tugging on his lips, head turning to keep looking at him as he walks with Daphne.

And Blaise hates, hates Nott. He hates that the other is taller than him, he hates how annoying he is, and he hates how Nott always has a comeback at ready. He hates how quickly Nott gets under his skin, always leaving him frustrated over a few words.

“Jerk,” Blaise lets out, hands closing in fists with the urge to punch that smirk out of his face as he hears the other. Blaise glares at his back as Nott and Daphne walk away, and only goes back to the stands when he realizes they might notice and think he’s staring.

**II.**

Blaise isn’t really paying attention to where he’s going, but that doesn’t mean it’s his fault when someone bumps into him. He looks away from the pretty redhead girl in the sundress down the hall to see Nott stumbling to the side, the pencil case open in his hand falling to the ground, and letting out his pens. Neither say anything, Nott glaring at him before he crouches down to pick his stuff up, and Blaise watches him for a moment, his eyes on the mop of dark hair that keeps covering Nott’s eyes away from him.

Blaise sighs loudly and going down as well, making sure his knees aren’t on the ground so he doesn’t dirty his trousers, grabbing a few pencils before he goes back up, a bit startled as Nott does the same, and they’re standing closer than they ever have before.

Blaise is seventeen, and now he can stop wondering which one of them is the tallest, as it’s not stretching the truth anymore to claim a few extra inches over Nott, even if the difference is barely visible. He sees eye to eye with him and Nott’s eyes are incredibly grey.

There’s an odd feeling attached to that knowledge, and he looks down, his eyes stopping momentarily on Nott’s mouth, before he quickly lowers them further, to the items he shoves against Nott’s chest. “Here.” And because he can’t stop himself, never can around Nott, he adds, “You should watch where you’re going.”

“You ran into me, Zabini,” Nott says, closing the pencil case and putting it in his backpack.

“And if you were watching where you were going, you would have stepped aside,” Blaise replies. He’s still not comfortable with how close they are, but stepping away will be seen as backing off, and he’s not doing anything that will make Nott think he’s won.

Nott just raises an eyebrow as he looks at him, not needing anything else to show Blaise just how ridiculous he thinks that sounds. Nott is annoyingly good at that, at knowing just how to reply with silences. It’s no wonder, seeing how reserved he is. Blaise, of course, hates it.

“Who made you walk around with all that stuff in your hands anyway?” Blaise asks, shifting his weight a bit.

“I was putting it away as I walked,” Nott replies, “doing two things at once. It’s called being productive.”

“Yeah, well, I call it stupid.”

“I wonder why,” Nott says with a hum. “Now, are you going to let me pass?”

And Blaise doesn’t move an inch. He’s not stepping aside for Nott, and for a moment just they stare at each other in silence, neither willing to give into the other.

Then Nott sighs, and steps around him. “You’re such a child,” he says, walking away.

And only then does Blaise move, to turn around and frown at Nott’s back. Honestly, to think he has helped him at all, only to keep hearing insults in return. “Jerk.”

 

**III.**

It’s Draco who notices him first, nudging Blaise on his side. Blaise glares at him, for almost making him spill his drink. Not that the lost of the drink would bother him much, Draco’s father owns the club, after all, but if it had gotten on his clothes, well, that’s another story.

“What?” he asks, and Draco just laughs as he grabs him by his arm, tugging him to see where he’s pointing. A bit down the bar, leaning against it with an elbow as he chugs down a drink, is Nott.

“Look at him, he’s sloshed!” Draco says with glee, then he looks at Blaise, grinning, “I bet you can’t go hit on him!”

Blaise is twenty two years old, and he has never gone back on a dare. He has also never seen Nott drunk, but then again, he hasn’t really seen him since high school.

Blaise looks at Nott, where he’s ordering another drink, and turns to Draco again. They have been hitting the club pretty often lately, as neither actually work, and at this point Blaise has slept around so much that Draco started making a game out of it, trying to pick girls for Blaise to hit on that were either seemingly out of his league, as if such thing existed, or too hard to get. Nott doesn’t fit either category.

“He’s a bloke,” Blaise says, “also, he’s _Nott_.”

“So you can’t do it, is that what you’re saying?” Draco asks, already smirking as if he’s won.

Honestly, Blaise doesn’t know how he got such an annoying git as his best friend, but he takes the bait anyway. They both have had too much to drink already, but that’s nothing new.

“You’re on!” he says, and finishes his drink with a long sip, setting his glass down on their table before he gets up, ignoring Draco’s gleeful laugh as he goes over to the bar, settling next to Nott. “Hey.”

And Nott turns to face with with a smile, and whatever move he had been trying to make just vanishes from Blaise’s head as he sees it. “Zabini, hello! Want a drink?”

“Not right now,” Blaise says after a moment, not quite sure of what to think on the dimples on Nott’s cheeks as he smiles. Nott has grown into his shape, scrawny, but all legs and lean, almost elegant as Blaise eyes him up and down. He leans closer, trying to get his head back into the game, and covers Nott’s wrist on the counter with a hand. “Haven’t seen you around here before.”

“Don’t like clubs,” Nott turns his face, his nose twitching, before he covers Blaise’s hand with his free one, looking up at him with a smile, “hey, let’s dance!”

His hand is soft on Blaise’s skin, and Blaise can’t say no without losing to Draco, and some how he’s not really minding it as he lets Nott drag him by his hand to the dance floor. He discovers Nott is a touchy dancer, but somehow his own hands keep brushing on Nott’s hips, and he should put some distance between them, but there’s something enchanting about the way Nott moves, and when he rolls his hips on Blaise’s _just right_ he clutches his hand on Nott’s side, and can’t help but to think that Draco had a brilliant idea. He can feel Nott’s shaky breath on his lips, and Blaise’s eyes roam on his face as he moves against Nott, his heart hammering loudly in his ears as he dares to lean in even closer. A hand curls on the side of his neck, and Blaise’s gaze locks on Nott’s hungry eyes, leaning in slightly as the other smirks, a tongue sweeping across Blaise’s bottom lip and he’s surprised by the shaky sound he lets out at the touch. He’s not sure who’s hitting on who anymore, only that he’s yet again losing against Nott, and this time he doesn’t mind it one bit.

Blaise has never really considered sex with blokes, apart from the one disappointing experience, but nothing has set his heart beating as it is now when Nott rubs his crotch on Blaise’s, slowly and incredibly arousing, their hips flushed together, his teeth tugging lightly on Blaise’s earlobe before he says, his voice low and purring and aroused in a way that seems everything Blaise has ever wanted. “Let’s shag.”

Blaise only nods because somehow he’s already half hard, and they don’t have to say anything to quickly make their way pass the crowd to the toilets, hands always touching the other, pressing their bodies together, and it’s not soon enough that they reach the toilets, thankfully empty.

He turns and looks at Nott, both stilling for a moment as they stare at each other, and before he can have any second thoughts, Blaise grabs Nott’s face with both hands, pressing their mouths together into a hard kiss, all the while walking him into a stall.

He breaks the kiss to lock the door, and when he turns to face Nott it is to see the hunger in his eyes, and the sight seems more familiar than it should be. It curls something in his loins, and he steps closer.

“I’m going to pound into you so fucking hard,” Nott let’s out, and Blaise frowns, putting a hand in his chest to stop him from getting closer.

“No. I’m doing you.”

Nott frowns at him, and that even more familiar sight tugs at something in Blaise’s chest this time, his hand lowering a bit down his torso. He doesn’t give in though, his eyes still locked on Nott’s.

“Fine,” Nott says, moving closer again, and his frown grows as Blaise smirks, victorious, very pleased to have won this round. “Idiot.”

“Jerk,” Blaise replies without missing a beat, and presses him against the wall, his mouth closing in on Nott’s again.

 

IV.

 “Blaise, mate, have you heard?” Draco’s voice rings into Blaise’s ear as soon as he picks up the phone.

“What?” Blaise asks, not really in the mood for whatever Draco has in store.

“Theodore’s father is in jail! Just found from Pansy that he’s working with Greengrass.”

Blaise sits up from his bed, his heart racing. “What? Where?”

“Some place called Fitting Flint. This is all because his father displeased Father’s boss, you know. He should have known better. Anyway, I’m busy here, so I’ll talk to you later.”

“Did you really just call me to gossip?”

“No, I called you to let you know how your good friend is doing lately,” Draco’s voice is smug, and Blaise is all the more thankful that he doesn’t know everything Blaise and Nott were up to that one night.

“Git,” Blaise says before hanging up.

Blaise is almost twenty three years old, and he’s finally getting a chance to see Nott again after so many months. His heart is racing as he quickly does a google search on the store name, staring for a while at the address it gave him.

Blaise has always enjoyed going slow and gentle with girls, but nothing makes him burn the way he bit into Nott’s lip, the rough way his hands got under the other’s clothes, scrapping his teeth on his neck and hearing the shaky sound that he forced out of Nott’s throat. It was liberating, in a way, to know he didn’t have to be thoughtful because Nott was always opinionated, and has always faced him head on. It had been a fantastic shag, and he has spent the last few months wondering if it had really been that good or just the alcohol talking.

Now he might finally get a chance to find out.

Except that Nott’s smiles are gone when Blaise walks into the store, glaring at him as soon as Blaise gets in. He doesn’t understand, as usually the girls he’s been are always hoping for another chance with him, and now the one time he comes after a shag it’s to be glared at and asked to leave.

“You can’t send me away, I’m a costumer.”

Nott crosses his arms, keeping his distance and his face emotionless, betrayed only by a small blush on his cheeks. Blaise remembers the way Nott flushed as he made the filthiest of sounds, each tearing out of his pretty mouth as Blaise pressed into him.

“I want to take out,” he says, stepping closer.

Nott frowns further at him. “What?”

“Have some drinks, go clubbing.”

“No.”

“Or just go straight to my place,” Blaise shrugs, unable to stop a smirk as Nott’s blush rises. It’s a lovely sight, and he’s rather liking how he’s started winning against Nott.

“No, go away,” Nott says firmly.

“Come on, Nott, we both know you enjoyed it last time.”

“I was drunk.”

“Then let’s see how it’s like when we’re sober,” Blaise replies, moving closer. Nott might be losing, but he doesn’t move away, standing his ground, his eyes firm on Blaise’s, and it sets his heart racing. Nott always puts up a fight, and it makes him feel like that night in the club, when all they saw was each other. He’s standing almost as close as they were when they were dancing, his hand moving to press on his neck, when Nott speaks.

“One more step, one touch, and I’ll report you for sexual harassment and get you banished from the store,” Nott says, and he’s blushing deeply, but his tone is impartial, and his eyes are still set on Blaise’s, not breaking contact.

Nott always gives as good as he gets, and it makes Blaise want more, to push until Nott breaks apart on him again, and to have the same done to him as Nott had last time.

“Playing hard to get, Nott?” Blaise says, and this time he steps back, but it’s okay, because Nott’s small sigh is telling enough, and Blaise knows he holds all the cards.

“This isn’t a game, Zabini.”

He’s wrong. It’s always a game between them, it’s always a competition, and it’s not a bad thing. They both lost against each other last time they saw each other, and Blaise knows that neither of them regrets it. It also feels incredibly good to win against him.

“I’m still going to win.”

“You’re still such a kid,” Nott sighs, and looks over Blaise’s shoulder, moving away, “Now leave, I have to talk to actual costumers and I’m tired of dealing with you.”

“Jerk,” Blaise calls him good-heartedly as he watches Nott go to the man that walked into the store. He considers just waiting around, but he figures he can just come back another day. He has all the time in the world, and the best games are the ones that are well played out.

 

**V.**

Nott presses the back of his fingers to his mouth as he lets out a small laugh, eyes crinkling and dimples growing on his cheeks, and Blaise wishes to grab that treacherous hand daring to cover away the sight it is to witness Nott’s smile. “You’re such an idiot.”

Blaise can’t help but to lean in, a smile tugging on his lips as he tries to catch Nott’s eye. “And you’re a jerk.”

Blaise is twenty three years old, and the more time he spends with Nott the less appealing his night outs and random shags are, and Blaise knows what to call the feeling that keeps stopping him from doing those things, but he’s not sure he wants to.

After all, Nott still hasn’t agreed to do anything with him.

“What a witty comeback,” Nott says with a hum, looking at him from the corner of his eyes, too amused for Blaise’s taste.

“Look who’s talking, your comeback was to call me an idiot,” Blaise replies smoothly.

Nott turns his head to face him properly again, his mouth opening, and he hesitates. “…Touché. You’re learning.” And because it’s him, because them, he can’t just leave it at that, “I’m surprised you’re capable of such thing.”

Nott always twists things in his favour, and it used to annoy Blaise to no end, back in high school. These days it makes him hold back a laugh.

“Your birthday is coming up,” Blaise says instead of replying. He’s learning more than Nott thinks, because he’s starting to figure out which fights are worth pushing for, and when it’s better to just let the matter drop.

“No, it’s not.”

“Daphne told me.”

“Well, she’s lying.”

“Nott,” Blaise gives him a look, and Nott turns his head for a moment, before sighing and looking back at him.

“Don’t do it.”

“She says you don’t celebrate it.”

“I don’t.”

“Go out to dinner with me.”

“Blaise,” Nott lets out softly, and Blaise hasn’t heard his first name coming out from those lips ever since Nott pressed them into his throat like a prayer, his hands clutching to Blaise’s back, nails digging deep. Blaise wants to touch him, but he hasn’t done that since that night either.

“You want it,” Blaise sais.

“You don’t know what I want.”

“Tell me, then.” Blaise prompts him right away, and waits as Nott stiffens for a moment, quiet as he thinks. Blaise doesn’t say anything either, knowing when to be patient.

“I don’t want to be left alone,” Nott says at last, his eyes away from him, and Blaise remembers the mother Nott lost to death when he was a small child, remembers the distant father that was arrested half a year ago. Blaise remembers one time in a night club, where after pressing one last breathless kiss to his mouth, he left Nott in the stall on his own.

His hand covers Nott’s on the counter, and holds it tightly. “You won’t be” he says, and he’s sure of what he’s promising, because the whole thing stopped being a game months ago, and he doesn’t want a shag to know if the one they had before had been good or bad, because no matter how bad it could actually be, he wants to stay this time around.

Nott looks at him, and it’s like Blaise’s touch was the last push he needed to give, because he sees how vulnerable Nott can be in that at moment, can see the fear in his eyes, and Blaise is never going to stop pushing for this. He squeezes his hand, and repeats. “Go out to dinner with me.”

“…Okay,” Nott agrees at last.

Blaise just looks at him for a moment, surprised, before his free hand cups Nott’s cheek as he leans in to press their mouths together. He feels Nott’s small inhale as their lips touch, and how tense he is for a moment before he leans in as well, moving his lips slowly on Blaise’s, head tilting to the side, and the kiss is gentle like none before between them, and Blaise’s heart is soaring.

He pulls back a bit against his will to see with pleasure the blush on Nott’s cheek, his eyes falling to the tongue that moves across his bottom lip. “…was that so hard?” he asks, smirking a bit.

Nott, puffing out, shoves his shoulder lightly with a hand. “It wasn’t as good as you’d think,” he says, but he’s blushing and smiling and not hiding either from him.

And Blaise grins, grins as he rubs his thumb across Nott’s reddening cheek, because it doesn’t matter how much they insult each other, when push comes to shove, Nott always meets him head on, and pushes right back at him.

“Jerk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this followed a bit of a different structure than the previous one, as the time skips don't match the 3 in 3 years setting I made for Theo, but we can't have it all.  
> I also had a few extra bits on Theo's actual work and how his father's arrest affected him, and how Lucius uses his night club to wash money for Voldemort, but they seemed randomly added in, so maybe another time.
> 
> Thank you so much for everyone who left kudos, I know there aren't many of us here in the nottini fandom (and even then with such different ideas about the characters and relationships!), but each kudo made me grinning like an idiot! If you liked this, please leave a comment?

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old fic I've realized I've never posted anywhere (probably because it's in a muggle!verse), so I've looked it over and decided to release it to the world.


End file.
